


what happened across the sea

by Laroyena



Series: Mamabird Universe [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Assumed child death, Babies, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Past Underage, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, and now it's a fucked up mess, dick is damian's real mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laroyena/pseuds/Laroyena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “And if I do, what’s going to happen? I was sixteen, Roy, and Bruce’s my guardian. It’ll ruin him.”</i>
</p><p>(Batman Omegaverse AU: Dick is Damian's mother) After Batman and Robin's brutal split, Dick disappears for two years across the Atlantic. Years after his reluctant return, Talia drops Damian Wayne off in Gotham and all hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what happened across the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [What happened across the sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654784) by [777SARA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/777SARA/pseuds/777SARA)



> So this was supposed to be crack at first, with the thought "What if Dick was ACTUALLY Damian's mom" and then trying to figure out how that would work with the al Ghul plot-line. And then somehow it turned into porn, and then into really twisted drama, and I can't write fluff for my life. This fic was also inspired by several other fics on this site ([baby wonder](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1887807) is one of my all-time favorites.)
> 
> The characters in this fic are different than the soulmate au; different universe, different people/relationships. I wasn't 100% happy with how Dick came out here, but for the sake of my sanity I had to stop working on this.
> 
> Also, Bruce is a gigantic asshole in this fic. He knows it, Dick knows it, Everybody knows it. But he does really love Dick. Honest.
> 
> EDIT: if anyone wants to read about Brudick's relationship before the events of the fic... here: [we won't be apart for long](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8631928)

“You’re pregnant,” Babs said incredulously.

“Yep.”

She opened her mouth. She closed it. After a heavy moment, she leaned closer to the web-cam and narrowed her eyes. “It’s Bruce’s, isn’t it?”

“Babs no,” Dick said, scrambling up in his seat. He could hear a revenge plan hatching a mile away. “He didn’t—I wanted it, okay? He doesn’t know.”

“Jesus Christ, Dick,” Babs rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “He’s an adult, and you—no, we’ll talk about that later. What are you going to _do_?”

“That’s why I called,” Dick leaned forward onto elbows, looking nervous but determined. “What do I need to do to get to Italy?”

\--

“What the hell,” Roy hissed when he finally made it to the address Dick had sent him. An address _across the Atlantic Ocean_. He would’ve told the younger boy to fuck off if Dick hadn’t been AWOL for close to six months.

Sure, he and Bats had their dramatic, messy split-up and so Roy had allowed Dick time to lick his wounds. But this was ridiculous. Also, Lian fussed and cried the entire flight to Rome, so Dick better be having a crisis worth flying here for.

When Dick answered the door, Roy took it all back. He’d rather Dick be having a stupid not-important crisis than _this_.

“You’re _pregnant_?” he gaped at Dick’s swollen stomach. He looked about ready to pop: eight, nine months easy. Lian, who had finally exhausted herself in her carrier, woke up at the smell of an omega. She reached a tiny hand and pressed it to Dick’s stomach.

“Hello to you too, Roy,” Dick sighed, looking exhausted. He let Lian rub his stomach a few more times before stepping back.

“You should have called me earlier, you as—I mean, you butthole,” Roy muttered, taking in the mess that was Dick’s tiny living room and kitchen. Dick’s room had always been a bit messy, but not like this. This looked like he took his room and half the trash and threw it all up onto the furniture. “What have you even been doing here besides incubating?”

“Well I told the JLA I was hacking into the European sector of the League of Shadows,” Dick said, gesturing at a laptop that was hidden under a pile of clothes. It looked dangerously unstable, and Roy rushed to straighten it. Dick continued, “But Babs is the one doing most of the work. I just look through feeds and offer tactical advice.”

“Of course Babs is in on this,” Roy sighed. If anyone could sneak a heavily pregnant Dick Grayson away from one of the most paranoid, surveillance-happy heroes in the world, it was Babs. No wonder Batman was going insane. “Okay, you called me all the way here to play alpha, didn’t you? Hospital or midwife? Though this place is a mess, we need to clean it up first. You got a nursery set up?”

“Um,” Dick said. He sat down on a pile of clothes on the couch and curled up, both hands around his swollen stomach.

That’s when Roy realized he had his work cut out for him.

\--

Lian had a very bad habit of poking Damian’s pudgy cheeks. Bad because Damian was the fussiest, loudest baby Roy had ever had the displeasure to care for, and every time Lian poked him she set him off again.

“Lian, sweetheart,” he sighed, pulling his daughter back from where Damian had finally, _finally_ fallen asleep in his crib. “Don’t bother Dami when he’s sleeping.”

She popped a spit-bubble at him. He sighed and kissed her soft dark hair, breathing in her baby smell. All kids smelled good, even Damian, but Lian obviously smelled the best to him. Parental bonds for the win.

Same thing went for Damian and Dick, even more so than with him and Lian. In fact, if the little terror had his way, Dick would be holding him all the time.

He and Dick alternated playing baby-watcher, switching off so they could pass out on the significantly cleaner couch. One rare night when they were _both_ lying exhausted on the couch, Roy turned and looked at his best friend.

“When are you going to tell Bats?”

“Tell him what,” Dick didn’t even open his eyes. “Last time I checked he fired me and I left the country and he picked up another Robin. Or something like that.”

“Tell him about _Damian_ , you ass.”

“That mouth,” Dick muttered. “What happened to keeping things PG?”

“Lian and Dami are both asleep. And don’t side-step me, Dick. Dami’s a carbon copy of Bruce; there’s no way you can pass him off as anyone else’s.”

Dick stopped breathing for a moment. Then he opened determined blue eyes and rolled over so he was facing Roy. “And if I do, what’s going to happen? I was _sixteen_ , Roy, and Bruce’s my guardian. It’ll ruin him.”

Roy had half a mind to say _Good_ , but knew better than to think it’d change Dick’s mind. The younger boy had always been stubborn and loyal and loving to a fault. It was times like this that he regretted not courting the omega himself... until he remembered that he liked his balls where they were, thanks.

Not even Ollie could've protected him from Batman's wrath.

“You know Bats is kind of going crazy not being able to spy on you. You really think Babs can hold him off much longer?”

Dick pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “No—I don’t know. I just thought—it’d be easier if I was eighteen, you know, when everyone finds out. They can’t take him away from me then.”

“I doubt anyone can take anything away from you,” Roy said, and as if on cue the hell-baby woke up and started screeching from his crib. This had the unfortunate side effect of waking Lian too, and then they had _two_ crying babies and not nearly enough hands to deal with them both.

Roy didn’t bring the Batman up again.

\--

At six months old, Damian was still pudgy, still fussy, and still ridiculously spoiled. He refused to sit in the airplane seat besides Dick—any attempt to take him off his mother’s lap resulted in screeching, punching, crying, the whole nine yards.

 _Lian was never this bad-tempered_ , Dick sighed to himself after Damian had finally cried himself to sleep. He missed Roy already. The Red Arrow had to return to the states to ward off suspicion—and to also bring news of Dick before the Batman strapped himself into a private jet and flew over to Europe himself.

“He’s adorable,” the hotel receptionist gushed when he finally arrived in London. “What’s his name?”

“David,” Dick lied, snatching up his keys and leaving before Damian woke up and proved exactly how not adorable he could be.

It took no time at all for Dick to set up the laptop on the bed, sit on the floor, and drag a blanket into his lap. He placed Damian snugly onto the blanket and stroked the baby’s fluffy black hair: this was one of the positions that guaranteed Damian’s silence. Hell, when the baby was content, it was almost creepy how quiet he could be.

It was only when Dick tried to put Damian down that he’d break out into tantrums.

This way, however, Damian just curled up against Dick’s stomach and dozed. Within three seconds of Dick turning on his laptop, Babs’s personal video-chat line began alerting him of an incoming call.

“Hello Bruce,” Dick said calmly. The web-cam only showed his face and shoulders, and Dick was confident that he was almost back to his pre-baby look. That was, not constantly tired and swollen.

“Dick, this is ridiculous,” Bruce said, straight to the point. He wasn’t wearing his cowl, thank god, but he was obviously in the Batcave and so tense he practically thrummed on screen. Once upon a time Dick would have soothed his shoulders with a sweep of his hand.

Now, Bruce had someone else for that.

“I’ve done good work tracking Talia so far,” Dick said. “She’s definitely planning to bring her plans to Gotham. If I can stop her before she crosses the ocean, I will.”

“Gotham is no longer your concern.”

“Oh shut up,” Dick stroked Damian’s hair and resisted the urge to bury his nose into his sweet baby scent. “I might not be Robin anymore, but Gotham was my home for years. You don’t _own_ the city, and you’re not the only one who can protect it.”

Bruce’s mouth was a sharp line. He disapproved. Whatever.

“How’s the little wing,” Dick said, to remind himself the other reason why he hadn’t gone home. Sure, keeping Damian to himself was one thing, but seeing someone else flying about in his colors was another. Thank god Jason was an alpha. Nothing would have stopped Dick from storming into Wayne Manor and strangling Bruce if he picked up another omega child off the street.

If he used them up and threw them away like he did with Dick.

No, that wasn’t fair.

“Jason is fine,” Bruce said flatly, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “Dick…”

“What.”

“Talia al Ghul is intelligent, deadly, and resourceful,” Bruce finally said. “And you’re working on your own. This is not the smartest combination.”

“Single-missions makes it much easier to stay under the radar,” Dick said. “Now if there’s nothing else you’d like to say to me, then good night.”

Bruce opened his mouth. He closed it.

“Good night,” he finally said, and then ended the call. Dick couldn’t help but feel disappointed. After years of handling Bruce’s shit, he should know better than to get his hopes up. He still did.

He’d wanted Bruce to say, with his own words: _Dick, come home_.

If he had, Dick might have actually gone back. But he hadn’t. Bruce hadn’t said anything of the sort since Dick had fled Gotham a year ago.

Damian began fussing when Dick stopped stroking his hair. Dick picked him up and kissed the baby’s chubby cheeks, to Damian’s obvious delight. Damian slapped tiny hands onto Dick’s head and babbled, like he could cheer his Mommy up through sheer will alone.

\--

Dick had fucked up.

He had been gathering intel at one of the League of Shadow’s public fronts when Talia’s goons got the drop on him. He woke up hog-tied to a wall with the woman herself sitting in front of him.

“Richard,” Talia purred, and Dick glared at her. “You’ve been sticking your nose in our business, haven’t you?”

“Not without reason,” Dick said. His utility belt was gone, as was all of his hidden gadgets. Thankfully he’d sent out a call while they’d been wrestling him to the ground, but who knows how long it’d take for someone to get here.

“True. My beloved still refuses to see the light as usual,” Talia sighed, standing up. She walked close by him, so close he could smell her spicy omega scent. “It occurred to me while you were unconscious that this was the perfect punishment. I could kill you, Richard, and Bruce would never forgive himself.” She traced a dagger down Dick’s throat. He shivered when the light, stinging cut began to bleed.

“But no,” she said. She put down the knife.

“There’s someone else I can take away that would hurt him _more_.”

\--

Thank god Roy had gotten his distress call, because he eventually heard a commotion upstairs. Roy emerged, covered in ninja blood and other fluids, and cut Dick loose.

“She’s going to kill Damian,” Dick gasped, and Roy’s eyes widened. Fear clutched at Dick's chest. He could barely think, much less fight. Their escape route out of the fortress was impeded by swarms of League assassins, forcing them to climb high and grapple-gun their way down to safety.

Dick’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He’d left Damian with the babysitter he’d been using for more than three months; she was clean, he’d gotten Babs to check her out; there was no way Talia—no way she could have—

When they made it to the babysitter’s home, the entire apartment was on fire.

\--

Dick had to see it with his own two eyes. He had to.

Nothing could stop the sob in his throat, however, when the medical examiner reluctantly showed him the charred remains of an infant. Not even Roy, who’d paled in horror and looked about to vomit, could console him.

Dick wanted Bruce so badly he _tasted_ it through his tears. He wanted Bruce’s comforting alpha scent: stronger than Roy’s, sharper, because Bruce was Dick’s alpha in every way that mattered. He wanted it wrapped around him, grounding him, but he couldn’t.

“You have to go home,” Roy begged when Dick curled up with a blanket in the motel bathtub and refused to come out. “You need your pack. Your family.”

“No,” Dick said. “No, no, _no._ ”

He couldn’t look at Bruce. Not when seeing him reminded him of Damian: of how he’d failed his alpha by losing their _son_ and that Bruce would never know.

Talia had assumed the death would devastate the Bat. It wouldn’t. Because Bruce was never going to find out—Dick would do everything in his power to make sure of that.

\--

When he finally mustered up the energy to look, he found that Talia had gone deep underground. Not even Babs’s information network could catch a sniff her out.

Dick’s throat hurt. Not enough water. He unscrewed a water bottle from his pack and hissed when he saw its empty contents. This was the second month he’d spent trying to hunt the other omega down, and he wasn’t taking care of himself.

Roy had unhappily returned home—Dick had hid away the day of his flight back so Roy couldn’t physically drag him onto the plane—because he couldn’t be away from Lian for too long. _Lian_. God, he’d been so envious he’d been sick.

Roy was a good father. He kept his daughter _safe_ , didn’t get her murdered by a bunch of zombie assassins. It had been hell calling Bruce before he got suspicious. Told him his mission had been compromised and he’d be laying low for a while.

He could barely look at Bruce the whole time, unable to see his face and _not_ think of—

“Dick, that’s enough,” a voice called out behind him. Dick froze.

“Clark,” he turned around and said. Superman tipped his head. “I told Bruce I was _fine_.”

“Yes, and _I_ told him this feud between the two of you has gone on long enough,” Clark extended a large hand and Dick hesitantly took it. The alpha’s friendly scent took the edge off his raw wounds, which Dick both appreciated and hated. “He doesn’t know I’m here, but that doesn’t matter. Dick, whatever fight you and Bruce had, you’re still one of us. And we take care of our own.”

Dick knew that, the moment he gave any assent, Clark would whisk him off in a heartbeat. Bring him home to his friends where their friendly scents could help him rebuild, just like Clark’s scent was helping him now.

But he would also carry him away from the last, minuscule chance he’d get wind of Talia al Ghul’s location; away from the best and worst two years of his life; away from his rightful punishment.

He deserved to be miserable, because his son was dead.

“Whatever you think you did,” Clark interrupted, as if he was reading his mind. Thank god that wasn’t an actual Kryptonian power, “I don’t care. We just want to see you safe. Please, Dick. Come with me.”

Slowly, guiltily Dick squeezed Clark’s hand. He closed his eyes when Clark wrapped him into his arms and set off, feeling so exhausted he could sleep forever.

\--

“Are you sure, Dick?”

“Yeah, Babs,” Dick clutched the tiny, battered photo in his hand. A keepsake. The only one. “Wipe everything.”

Babs looked at him through the web-cam. “You know I can’t get any of this info back once I do that, Dick. Not even his birth-certificate.”

“I don’t care,” Dick’s throat clogged up. “ _Burn it_.”

Just like Damian had burned. He tucked the photo in his wallet and put his head in his hands.

\--

Slowly, ever so slowly, Dick recovered. Clark and Lois and Diana were all godsends, giving him a place to live, goals to have, and all the time he needed.

It took a while to get in contact with his old Teen Titans team. They welcomed him back with a combination of relieved cries and miffed frowns. Wally in particular was upset that he'd called Roy and not him.

Because Wally was a beta. He was one of Dick’s best friends, but wouldn’t have understood why Dick had to stay away.

“Have you gone to visit Bats yet?” the speedster had asked after they’d a successful mission. It was the first one that debuted Nightwing—Dick’s new persona, inspired by one of Clark’s many tales read aloud to him while he sulked in the closet.

“Nope,” Dick said. “He hasn’t contacted me either.”

Not that he didn’t wait for Bruce’s call every day. But it seemed like once he’d confirmed that Dick had returned to America, Dick was no longer his problem. He didn’t even Skype call him anymore.

It hurt, but Dick knew it was for the best. The wound was still too raw. Seeing Bruce’s face on-screen had been bad enough. In person, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough not to tell Bruce of what he’d done.

\--

Jason died.

Bruce fell into a dark place, so dark that Dick’s omega instincts wouldn’t let him stay away. Even if it was the first time they’d met face-to-face since Dick had left so many years ago; even if just catching a whiff of Bruce’s scent almost sent him to his knees. God, he’d _missed_ that scent, even fucked up with distress and guilt. It was comfort and safety and sex, and Dick wasn’t prepared.

“Get out!” Bruce had roared at him in the Batcave, like Dick’s own scent had personally offended him. “You made it clear this wasn’t your home anymore!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of your own bullshit, Bruce?” Dick had bellowed back, Bruce’s distress overriding any stupid omega instinct he had to cower. “You _fired_ me!”

“You left.”

“ _You fired me!”_

“Get _out_ ,” Bruce growled, voice lower and scratchier, as he slowly loped towards Dick. Dick inhaled sharply, sensing the change in scent immediately. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

Dick couldn’t help but shoot off his mouth: “You’ve already done it.”

Bruce’s eyes flashed dangerously, and then he was crowding Dick against the closest surface. He was heavy and strong, and his grip on Dick’s wrist was iron-tight. Even so, Dick could probably escape if he wanted to. Bruce was clearly compromised by grief, and while alphas tended to become more aggressive like that, they also became more susceptible to an omega’s suggestion.

But he didn’t particularly want to escape. So Dick just tipped his head back and bared his neck. Let Bruce run his sharp alpha teeth against his jugular and sniff greedily at Dick’s sweet omega scent, because Dick had missed this so much he could cry. He missed feeling Bruce’s strong weight and presence on top of him— _inside him_ —and his nimble fingers made quick work of the Bruce’s shirt and pants.

It was vulgar, letting Bruce bend him in half against the console and shove his cock inside of him. It hurt without the prep, even with his omega body, and hurt even more when Bruce set a brutal pace. Their bodies slapped together, Dick whining softly from the back of his throat as his alpha basically brutalized him. Fucked him until his insides felt like they were on fire, until Dick’s fingers were clawing at his bicep and drawing blood.

“Bruce,” he choked out when he felt the man’s teeth against his throat again. “Bruce, _no_.”

And because he was the Batman, because Dick was still his responsibility, Bruce resisted what any alpha would have done and didn’t bite. He did, however, spread Dick’s legs apart with his large hands as his thrusts became harder, stronger. Dick grunted at the painful pressure against his entrance and let out a hiss when Bruce’s knot finally popped inside.

Tied together now, Bruce’s alpha instincts slowed down. He rocked gently into him, letting Dick finally have time to register the thick heat cradled between his hips. Let Dick register the tears running down Bruce’s face, which was—shocking.

“Shh,” he said, putting both hands around Bruce’s handsome face. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Bruce growled low and pained, and then sank his face into Dick’s shoulder. Dick stroked Bruce’s hair softly, trying extremely hard not to think of similar soft black hair under his fingertips. That was before. This was now.

Dick let out a surprised noise when Bruce finally came with a hard grunt. His insides were being painted in fire, which was fine. He could take it. He continued stroking Bruce’s hair through it, until he’d emptied himself out and slowly sank them both to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered into his alpha’s ear. “I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

It was a miracle that Alfred didn’t come and check on them. Not with them tied against the computers for more than forty-minutes, Bruce pretending to be as alive as stone statue and Dick petting his hair the entire time.

Dick understood, after all.

He’d lost a son before too.

\--

Nightwing chose Bludhaven as his home turf, because Gotham was right next-door and he still wasn’t confident leaving Bruce on his own.

They were better. Not as good as they’d been before their last fight, but Bruce _needed_ him. It was probably fucked up for him to redirect his stupid omega-mother instincts to his son’s father, rather than his son, but Nightwing didn’t care.

It made him feel better, it made Bruce feel better, and when Bruce wasn’t a miserable angry fuck then Gotham as a whole felt better.

Things were even reaching a tentative normal until he opened the door one day and found a young boy on his doorstep. “Hi! Are you Dick Grayson?”

“Yes?” Dick asked warily. He’d just come back from the precinct; he hadn’t even taken off the rest of his police uniform.

The boy stuck out his hand. “Tim Drake. I think you should come back to Gotham.”

“Excuse me?” Dick blinked, but wasn’t nearly as shocked as he’d feel when the boy followed up with:

“Because Batman _needs_ a Robin.”

\--

Tim Drake was an omega. That was probably why Dick felt so protective over him, because Tim reminded him of a younger version of himself. It was also why he made sure Tim could handle himself before foisting him off on Bruce. Dick wasn’t naïve.

It turned his stomach, but he would never forgive himself if Bruce laid a hand on the other boy.

He _wouldn’t_ , Dick knew. But extra training never hurt anyone.

Thankfully, after keeping a hawk’s eye on Tim and Bruce’s tentative partnership for months, their scents settled into a definite father-son bond. And Bruce acted far more appropriate with Tim, too, like a family alpha _should._ Appropriately protective when Tim brought home his friends, one of which was Clark’s alpha clone who stuck entirely too close to Tim’s side for Bruce’s comfort.

Dick felt guilty for even _thinking_ that Bruce would do something. Guilty, and also… glad. It made him feel better that Bruce hadn't bedded Dick just because he was a vulnerable omega, but because he genuinely seemed attracted to him.

To celebrate, he went off his suppressants the next month and let Bruce share his heat, because one thing they were surprisingly good at was fucking each other. It was the first thing that came back in their new relationship, which really wasn't the healthiest. He didn't care. It was good. Had _always_ been good. So much so that Dick had once forgotten his daily birth control pill after a trying day as Robin, and had been unprepared to have post-fight heat sex with Bruce on the floor of the Batcave.

The memory hurt. It reminded him of the aftermath, of months sitting alone in a room in Italy, and of the soft body that used to curl sleepily in his arms.

He wasn’t ready to relive any of that. Maybe not ever.

He took a morning-after pill just to be safe, and then went to shake Bruce awake for the upcoming JLA meeting.

\--

While Bruce and R’as duked it out several times over the decade, it wasn’t until the tail end of that that Dick finally heard of Talia again.

He’d almost dropped his phone when Bruce informed him of his dinner plans. Talia al Ghul wanted to meet the Batman, apparently, and Bruce wasn’t stupid enough not to bring back-up. Dick had agreed.

 _Talia_.

The image of a burnt corpse flashed across his mind’s eye against his will. Feeling sicker than he had in years, Dick fled to the bathroom and vomited.

If there was anyone Dick had ever itched to break the Bat’s no-killing rule for, it was Talia al Ghul. It was his _right_ as a mother to get revenge. But Dick had kept the whole incident away from Bruce for so long—years—he wasn’t about to mess up now.

Strapping on his gauntlets and escrima sticks, he glued the Nightwing mask onto his face and leapt out the window.

\--

“She didn’t do anything, Dick,” Bruce said over the phone, calling Dick before he could make it to the harbor. He sounded bewildered, which was concerning for the most stoic member of the Justice League. “She wanted to talk. And… also to leave someone for me to take care of.”

“What,” Dick said. “Who the hell would she care about enough to leave with _you_?”

Bruce hesitated. “Talia and I… our son.”

Dick felt his heart seize in his throat. Talia had a son? Talia had a _son_ with _Bruce_? He felt physically sick, but swallowed it down to croak: “You guys have a kid?”

“I swear I didn’t know, Dick,” Bruce said apologetically. “She’s trained him up as an assassin. He’s… volatile. If I had known, I would have taken Damian away from her long ago.”

And Dick really did drop his phone this time.

\--

Talia al Ghul was a sick bastard. That’s all Dick could think of when Bruce asked him to look for this “Damian,” who’d apparently escaped the Batmobile and was on the loose.

 _Damian_.

Anger coursed through his chest.

Damian was the name of _his_ son, not hers. How could she take that name away from him? Or did she do it on purpose, as a way to show Dick that she was the better omega for Bruce, not him.

That _her_ Damian was the true son, not the one she’d—she’d—

He heard a panicked cry and vaulted towards the sound. Pure instinct helped him block the incoming sword-blow, saving the life of some gangster lowlife. The tiny assassin that had been about to gut him bared his teeth at Dick.

“Don’t interfere!” he said in a crisp tone, face barely recognizable under his hood.

Bingo. This must be Talia’s Damian. Seeing that he was a psycho assassin who’d just been about to gut a bulky man who’d shat his pants, that seemed like a reasonable assumption.

He was good. Fast, skilled, coming at Dick with strikes that he could barely twist away from and only because he was flexible as fuck. Finally, Dick gained the upper hand and slammed the brat to the ground. He was in the middle of tying him up when the hood finally fell from his face—and Dick froze.

This scent.

He recognized this scent, because he dreamed about it half the time he closed his eyes to sleep.

Happy days pressing his nose to his baby’s soft black hair; of blowing raspberries onto his tummy and laughing when he was kicked for his efforts; of cuddling with him during cold nights. The horrible moment when he’d dumped all their belongings into a dumpster nearby, because he couldn’t sit around that high chair or crib without trying to breathe in his fading scent.

Looking at the boy’s snarling face cinched it. He was the spitting image of Bruce, with darker skin and piercing blue eyes that might be mistaken as Bruce’s, maybe, if one didn’t know that Dick’s eyes sparkled the same way.

This wasn’t Talia’s Damian at all.

This was _his_.

\--

Dick said nothing the entire ride back to the Batcave. Damian— _his_ Damian, his lost baby, he was _alive_ —just sulked in the back, occasionally arguing with Bruce about driving the car or not being a child.

And occasionally—very occasionally—he turned and stared at Dick when he thought Dick wasn’t looking, like he was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. He’d done the same thing when Dick had tied him up. The little brat could’ve easily escaped in those few seconds Dick had been immobilized by shock, but he hadn’t.

He’d taken the chance to stare at Dick instead.

Dick's mind whirred in overdrive. Talia had been clever in leaving a corpse of another child for Dick to find. He wouldn’t have stopped looking if he had any inkling Damian was alive. But he hadn’t even bothered to search, because Damian’s entire existence had to be kept secret so Bruce couldn’t find out, and Dick had been so _stupid_.

Now his child was all grown up, twisted by whatever crazy League of Shadows training Talia had forced on him.

No, that wasn’t right. Damian wasn’t twisted. Damian was alive. He was _alive, he was sitting right there_.

“I need to run a DNA analysis,” Bruce told Damian in the Batcave. “Just in case.”

“Honestly, Father,” Damian turned his nose up at him. “Anyone who looked at us both would know I’m your son.”

Dick hissed when Alfred finished bandaging up his wounds and then limped upstairs, not caring a damn if it looked like he was running away. Bruce could chalk it up as Dick’s anger at his infidelity. _Talia_ , of all people? Thank god Tim was off in space with Kon; it would have been chaos trying to explain everything to the younger omega without making Bruce look like a complete asshat.

No, Grayson, _focus._ Whatever his grievances were with the alpha, Dick had no idea what was going to happen when Bruce ran that DNA.

When Bruce found out he'd _lied_ to him, kept his son away from him, and had lost him.

Because it seemed Talia had intentionally left Damian here to wreck havoc on their life—or she had no other choice _and_ she wanted to wreck havoc on their life. If she’d passed Damian’s as hers until R’as al Ghul found out he wasn’t, R’as would definitely kill the boy. He knew too much.

Dick’s heart seized at the thought. _No_. The League wasn’t going to touch Damian again.

\--

Damian had a choice.

He could either slip out and hunt down Deathstroke himself—what was Mother thinking leaving him here, when he was obviously more of use fighting by her side—or he could stay put and watch Father’s young omega some more.

He’d been trained in the Assassin’s secrets all his life. Tutors in every subject, multiple martial arts styles, enough languages to be a walking talking Rosetta Stone. He hadn’t met either of his parents, however, until he was eight-years old and Talia al Ghul decided to take him under her tutelage at last.

She had tan skin similar to his own, but that was as far as the resemblance went. From what she and Grandfather said, however, he looked mostly like his father.

(He did. Seeing Father’s face under his cowl had been a shock—it was like looking at himself in thirty years’ time.)

But they’d always been… distant. Mother had lavished attention on him, yes, but only for his skill. His intelligence. He never had the urge to sink into her embrace, for example, because embracing Talia al Ghul would be like trying to hug a poisonous cactus.

He wrote it off as League training. Damian didn’t want to snuggle up to his mother because Damian wasn’t a child. He was an _assassin_.

Except the moment he stepped out from the curtain, he’d felt an immediate wave of _protection safety strength_ wash over him when he caught Father’s scent. Father had looked similarly stricken. It tugged at something in Damian’s core, and despite not having met before he had the insane urge to curl up against Father’s leg.

It was the strongest feeling he’d ever gotten from a scent in his entire life—until later that day, when he’d been dealing due punishment on the streets.

The vigilante that came to stop him was a handsome young omega whose acrobatics caught him off-guard. He’d defeated Damian—which was embarrassing—and was tying him up when Damian caught a whiff of his scent. A hurricane of _good warm comfort_ lit up his animal brain like a light show, so much so he couldn’t move. A familiar scent, like someone was stroking his hair and holding him like something precious, though Damian was sure no one had ever done such things in his life.

It rattled him badly. His reaction to Father made sense because he was Damian’s _father_.

Why the hell would he have such a visceral reaction to a stranger?

\--

Bruce stared at the DNA results.

He looked down at the sample he’d taken from Damian’s swab. This had to be a mistake. It wasn’t possible.

But what if it wasn’t a mistake.

Damian was ten. He was conceived around eleven years ago. Bruce had assumed it was the time Talia had spiked his drink and left him naked and with a headache in the morning—it seemed like something she would do. He hadn’t told Dick because it would upset the boy, and because he’d been embarrassed.

And Dick. Oh, _Dick._

Ten years ago, Dick had run off to Europe and disappeared for two years. They had been fighting. He’d ripped away Dick’s Robin title and ordered him out of the house. He’d expected Dick to bunk at Clark’s or Barry’s for a few months, and was more than upset to find out that Dick had flown to Italy instead.

He’d wanted Dick to come home so badly his alpha teeth _ached_.

(His animal brain was always angry that he’d never bitten Dick's neck, never had the bond that would make him _his_ halfway across the world. They only had a half-formed mating bond that was doomed to be incomplete, because Bruce couldn’t ever not fuck up long enough to get Dick to trust him again.)

Bruce ran the test again. There was no room for error. He had to be absolutely sure about this if he was going to confront his omega, because if this was true—if Dick had run because he’d—because Bruce had—

He put his hand to his mouth.

Why hadn't Dick come to him. He should have come to him instead of fleeing to Italy or London or wherever the hell he'd been, where he'd clearly suffered. _His_ omega halfway across the world in pain, and Bruce had been too wrapped up in their last fight to notice. Too busy training Jason and not paying attention to how tired Dick seemed in their reluctant video chats. Too hurt to even call when Clark told him he'd brought Dick home—because Dick would have come home if he wanted to, right?

Goddammit. Bruce's rage boiled inward. He'd always been a shitty alpha, but not  _this_ shitty. He never thought. No.

Take responsibility. Whatever else had occurred between them, Bruce should have _noticed._

\--

Damian strolled around the _massive_ manor and assessed all the weak spots in its security. There were surprisingly few. Mother had been right when she’d praised the Batman’s diligence.

He paused when he caught that comforting, sweet scent again. Before he realized what he was doing, he followed it. He found Dick Grayson perched on a chair at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee. The omega was freshly showered and was discussing something with the family butler.

Without the suit and mask and the grime of Gotham city, Grayson smelled _heavenly_. Damian’s fingers twitched.

“Master Damian,” Alfred Pennyworth acknowledged him. Grayson, on the other hand, was looking at Damian like a deer caught in headlights. They stared at each other awkwardly for so long the butler turned to the older charge. “Master Dick?”

“Uh—sorry, Alfred. Damian, do you want something to—”

Dick cut off when Damian stormed right up to him. This scent. _This scent_. Why did it make him feel this way? He needed to know. Damian wasn’t good at denying himself things, especially if it didn’t hurt his standing with the head alpha. Father wasn’t here. Ergo, he could do what he wanted to Grayson.

Like clamber into his lap like he was five, not ten, and bury his face into Grayson’s freshly showered neck. Grayson went rigid with shock, his entire posture screaming awkwardness. Damian didn’t care. He breathed in that amazing scent and let the waves of comfort and calm and home wash over him. He didn’t want to tear himself away, ever, and for some reason that brought tears to his eyes.

(And Damian Wayne _didn’t cry_.)

And then before he could draw away for the sake of his dignity, Grayson’s arms were suddenly around him, crushing him against his chest like he never wanted to let Damian go.

“Damian,” the man gasped wetly. He pressed his nose into Damian’s hair and snuffled like he was—like _he_ was crying, from the way his shoulders shook under Damian’s chin. “Dami, _god_ , oh my god.”

“Master Dick,” the butler sounded alarmed, but his voice was far away. Very, very far away, because all Damian could hear was Grayson whispering: “I’m so sorry, Damian. I’m so _sorry_.”

Footsteps behind him. Even through Grayson’s overpowering scent, he could tell that it was Father.

“Dick,” he sounded shaken, which Damian hadn’t even thought was possible. “Dick, we need to talk.”

\--

After Father and Grayson finished screaming and crying and shouting at each other, Grayson wandered into Damian’s room and sat down on his bed.

He took out his wallet with shaking hands and pulled out an old, often-handled photograph.

A very, _very_ young Grayson smiled at the camera, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. In his arms was a grumpy looking baby, dressed in a red-and-black onesie and holding a bat plushie. It was definitely Damian. He’d never seen baby photos of himself before, but there was no denying the expression or the facial features. It was him miniaturized, being held by his—his _mother_ and scowling like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

“You were angry because Lian and Roy were leaving,” Grayson said. “They were packing their stuff away and the change was riling you up. You cried the entire taxi ride to the Leaning Tower, which made Lian cry, and we had to give the driver a big tip for putting up with us the whole way there.”

Damian’s words caught in his chest. Despite the revelations that had occurred today—Father roaring at Dick over Damian’s DNA results, which showed that Damian wasn’t Talia al Ghul’s child at all—some part of him hadn’t believed it. Thought it was a mistake, or another plot to get at his mother.

But even Father couldn’t have orchestrated something like this picture, which was obviously old and battered from being looked at so many times. He couldn’t have faked Grayson’s scent or the omega’s reaction, because from what he could tell Father couldn’t control Grayson at all.

So many questions sat on his tongue. How could he inherit the League of Shadows without being an al Ghul? His mother had to have known. Did Grandfather know? Did Grandfather find out? And most importantly…

“You left me,” Damian said.

Grayson flinched back like Damian had struck him.

“No,” the omega said in a voice that was half sorrow and half rage. “No, Dami. I was—I was looking into the League of Shadows in London when Talia caught me. She—she _took_ you from me.”

“And you let her?”

“She left a body,” Grayson sounded choked up. This was obviously an old, painful memory and Damian wasn’t equipped to handle this. “She burnt the house down and left a burnt body—an infant…”

Damian swallowed. That did sound like something Mother would do, if a bit grotesque.

Mother. Should he keep calling Talia his mother?

“I see. Did you need anything else, Grayson?” Damian asked, voice coming out cold to hide his confusion. Strangely enough, Grayson seemed to know what he really meant. Prolonged exposure to Father, perhaps. He sighed and lay down on Damian’s bed.

Damian’s cheeks colored. He wasn’t a _baby_ anymore, not like the one Grayson had known. He didn’t appreciate Grayson mother-henning him like this, and he didn’t need to be suffocated with his presence.

Which didn’t explain why Damian rushed to obey when Grayson patted the space beside him. He crawled beside the man—a _stranger_ , who in his memory he only metl today— and curled up against him. Rested his head on his chest and felt Grayson breathing in and out.

For the first time in his life, Damian felt... calm. Not on edge. Even when he'd taken breaks between training, he always felt like the rug was going to be pulled out from under him. Even this position felt familiar, which wasn't possible. From what he could tell, Moth—Talia had taken him when he was barely a year old. He couldn’t possibly remember anything before that.

But maybe his body did. It had recognized the scent of the omega who had given birth to him, even before he’d known himself. Looking at it that way, it wasn’t so farfetched to think his body would remember being comforted as a baby.

Grayson still smelled good. Sweet. Damian felt his eyes drooping closed the more Grayson’s breaths evened out, until they both drifted off into sleep.

\--

Their drama had to be put on hold when Talia’s and Deathstroke’s plots turned Gotham into a battlefield. Dick’s one regret was not capturing Talia. He couldn’t interrogate her, punish her, ask her how she could do something like this to another omega. To steal a child from under his nose, just because it was _Bruce’s_ child and Talia couldn’t have one herself.

The last fact she’d admitted only to Bruce, not him. Bruce had been frighteningly chilly since their argument—since he’d discovered Dick’s greatest failure as a partner and an omega and a _mother_ —and had directed most of that anger towards this woman who wanted his child so badly. Enough to drug and rape Bruce on a ship, apparently, which Dick hadn’t known.

Enough to fake the death of Bruce’s actual son, taking him far away from both of his parents.

“Father wanted a male heir,” Talia had said, sounding far too calm. It was like they’d discovered another one of her plots, something that could easily be abandoned—not a _ten-year-old child_. “And he wanted your blood, beloved. My sister was looking to secure her place, and I couldn’t let her. It wasn’t until after I slept with you that I discovered I couldn’t bear children, despite being an omega. It was simply good luck that I discovered your… ward had bore your child. A bit of fudging about with Father's DNA tests and the plan continued.”

“Get out of my city,” Bruce had said, voice barely more than a growl. “If you step into Gotham again, Talia, I will make you regret it.”

Talia had just smiled at him. “With your no-kill rule? I doubt it. But I need to go handle League business anyway, beloved. With Father dead and no male heir, the succession falls to me.”

When Bruce played back the recording of that conversation, Dick had wanted to smash the stupid tape into pieces.

It had been Talia’s plan all along, hadn’t it? She’d never intended for Damian to take over the League of Shadows. He was a distraction for R’as al Ghul, a lie Talia needed to maintain to keep on her father’s good side until his death.

And with no reason to keep Damian anymore, she’d just sent him back to his parents—like she’d just borrowed the boy for a bit, and was doing such a good favor by returning him ten years late.

\--

Bruce waited a week before confronting Dick again.

“You didn’t tell me,” he told his ward, his not-mate, who just sat on Bruce’s sprawling mattress and stared at the wall.

“No.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean _why_ ,” Dick finally turned to glare at him. “I was sixteen, Bruce and you were almost _thirty_.”

“I could’ve helped you,” Bruce insisted. “If you needed money for an operation—”

Dick threw a pillow at him. “Don’t you dare, Bruce!” he growled. “I loved him. Love him. He was _mine_ and you couldn’t take him away from me overseas. Do you get it?”

“I would never,” Bruce said, stunned, but Dick had ducked his head down and was scrubbing at his eyes.

“I just wanted a piece of you, Bruce,” Dick said in a tired voice. “’Cause I knew what we had wasn’t anything, but I wanted something that was yours. Dami—Dami looked just like you as a baby, you have no idea.”

Bruce was still stuck on _‘cause I knew what we had wasn’t anything_. “You never let me bite you.”

“Because I never know if you’re serious!” Dick growled. “Or if I’m just a—a convenient omega you can turn to when you need something done. Sex, hero-work, business. Biting me would give you even more control. I barely have any as it is!”

Bruce gaped openly. He felt like his heart was being crushed, because how could he have not noticed this before? “Dick—no.” He walked up to the bed and took Dick’s hands into his own. Dick hissed and tried to jerk away, but Bruce tightened his grip. “No, I always wanted you. _All_ of you.”

A distressed look crossed his own face. “So much I did abominable things to you when you were under my care.”

“Don’t put it like that,” Dick muttered. “I wanted it too.”

“You were fifteen.”

“Sixteen!”

“Fifteen when it started,” Bruce said. It was incriminating to say it out loud. “And I was so scared you were going to be snatched away from me. You—Dick, I’ve always been serious about you.”

Dick didn’t say anything. Just blinked fiercely, like he was holding back tears, and clenched Bruce’s hands harder.

“Dick?” he ventured.

“I’m sorry,” Dick’s voice was watery, wobbly. He curled in on himself. “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_. If I told you—if I’d gone home—Talia wouldn’t have taken him. She wouldn’t have k-killed him, like I thought she had. I was so _stupid_. It’s all my fault.”

“No,” Bruce said. He wrapped his arms around Dick’s shoulders and let the younger man bury his face into his chest. “No, Dick. It was mine. I drove you out. I abandoned you.”

“I was a brat.”

“You were a _teenager_. I was an adult. I should have known better, and I should have noticed you needed my help.”

“Enough,” Dick sighed, nuzzling into Bruce’s collar. Bruce undid a few buttons and let Dick rest his cheek against bare skin. Closer access to Bruce's scent. “I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I _forgive_ you,” Dick repeated. He sighed breathily against Bruce’s neck. “I hope Damian does too.”

“He will,” Bruce said softly. “He’s yours, and you are a good man, Dick Grayson.”

And he was pressing his luck, he knew he was, but Bruce just wasn't good with _words._ He gently nudged Dick onto his back and climbed on top of him. At twenty-seven, he was as beautiful and sweet as he was at sixteen. The same fearless twinkle in his eyes, the same wry smile. The same ability to make Bruce break all his rules, to drive him crazy with nothing more than the curve of lips and an inviting look.

Dick let Bruce kiss him, which was a good sign, opening his mouth willingly at his touch. God, his boy was still so good. Even better over time, with a scent Bruce could bury himself in.

A beautiful boy he couldn’t let go of—a mistake that had cost them both.

Dick moved first. Deft hands peeled Bruce’s shirt from his shoulders and ran light fingers down his back. He unzipped the front of Bruce’s pants and curled his fingers around the older man’s cock through his briefs, rubbing his thumb over it possessively. Bruce growled at how good it felt, at how confident Dick was in what Bruce liked. He liked it even better when Dick lifted his hips and slid Bruce’s cock between his ass cheeks in invitation, his entrance already slippery with slick.

Bruce barely had the patience to stretch Dick open with one finger, or even two. Three would be advised, except here was Dick letting out contented sighs and smelling good enough for Bruce to eat. He had to get inside him _now_.

“Oh,” Dick gasped when Bruce grabbed the back of his thighs and pressed his cock inside. It felt incredible. Tight. No matter how many times they’ve done this, Bruce knew he’d never get used to how good it felt to fully seat himself inside the omega. How good it felt to begin moving.

Dick laughed when Bruce pressed kisses to his lips, chin, neck while he rocked into his boy: steady, deep thrusts into Dick’s tight heat. Smoothed his hands up his thighs, around the omega's wet cock, up his trembling abdominal muscles and down again. Just getting drunk on the beautiful noises his omega made—the happier, the better. This was Dick’s favorite kind of sex, he knew.

Dominant, loving, confident.

Dick came with a contented sigh, his insides fluttering around Bruce. Massaged his head, his shaft, until Bruce had to hurry to press his knot into Dick’s channel before coming as well. He came _hard_ —like he was gushing inside his boy, just emptying his entire self. It was obscene.

“Jesus, Bruce,” Dick wriggled at the undoubtedly full sensation. “You've really been wound up, huh.”

He looked sated, though, and spread his legs so Bruce could lie on top of him, not giving a damn about his weight. Drunk on pheromones and how good it felt to be tied together, Bruce nuzzled under Dick’s jaw.

Dick didn’t flinch when Bruce pressed his alpha teeth to his scent gland and licked his skin. He ran his teeth over it again. Then his tongue. Teeth and tongue, over and over until Dick was trembling and gasping beneath him.

“Maybe next time,” Dick whispered—which was the closest he’d ever gotten to saying _yes_.

\--

“Damian’s alive? _Your_ Damian?” Roy was stunned when Dick called him before their weekly friend-date. “Wait, back up. Tell me everything.”

Dick had already gone through the whole spiel with Babs, who had been thunderstruck when he’d managed to drag Damian over and wave hi. He’d been asking after Damian’s wiped information—data that he correctly suspected that Babs had deleted everywhere but her own impenetrable server.

After everything that had happened, Dick had been selfish. He and Damian spent time together with just the two of them, and Dick thrilled when Damian finally began to warm up to his new family. Old family. Whatever. The boy seemed happy enough trailing after him in the Batcave, but Dick knew it was time. He hadn't been the only one who'd taken care of him, after all.

So he’d let Babs know, he was now letting Roy know, and eventually when Tim came home…

Well, he'll put that off to whenever Tim actually came home, he supposed. He didn’t want to think about _that_ conversation.

“I will, just—I think it’d be good for you to bring Lian, too,” Dick told Roy over the phone. “Damian’s been stuck with all of us adults for too long, it’s not good for him.”

“Yeah, of course. Now _spill_.”

Damian, however, was firmly against going after Dick had told him about lunch. Especially when he heard that Lian was eleven.

“I don’t associate with children,” he told Dick sharply when the omega had prodded him about it. “And I don’t see the point in meeting this… Roy.”

“First off, _you_ are a child,” Dick said. “And secondly, the point is for _him_ to see _you_. He changed your diapers as a baby, Dami, and was just as upset when you were… missing as I was.”

Damian sulked. He pouted. He kept calling Dick a variety of names, with “Grayson” being the most common, though sometimes he’d slip up and refer to him as “Mom”—usually when he was too busy to realize what was coming out of his mouth.

“If you go, I will allow you access to the latest grapple gun blueprints,” Bruce told him, and Damian’s eyes finally lit up with interest.

Damian and grapple gun blueprints seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, but Dick supposed Bruce could handle that when it did. He spent his time wrangling Damian into normal, not-ninja clothes instead.

When they finally arrived at his favorite café in Star City, Lian and Roy were already at the table. Lian, who Dick remembered once running around in nothing but her diaper while Roy pretended to be a dinosaur, was already such a little lady. Dressed in jeans and a frilly shirt and her dark hair tied up in pigtails.

Of course the first thing Roy noticed wasn’t the ten-year old child standing beside him. It was the fresh bite-mark on his neck.

“You let him _bite_ you!” he hissed, pointing at the mark like it had personally offended him. Damian looked thrilled to have someone agree with him.

“That’s what I said too,” he declared, and Roy blinked down at the boy. “After careful thought, I’ve decided that Grayson deserves far better than Father. Either that, or they need to solve many of their issues before they can enter a sustainable relationship.”

“You talk funny,” Lian made a face at him.

Damian paused to give her a condescending look. “Your lower level of intellect is of no concern to me.”

“No one’s going to understand you,” Lian just said. “Big words don’t mean anything if no one knows what you’re saying. Like what you just said. Eleven words. That’s too many words. The same sentence could be turned into two: ‘You’re stupid.’”

“That’s three,” Damian said, looking both irritated and flabbergasted to be having this kind of conversation with a girl around his age. “You’re is a contracted form of ‘you are.’”

“Yeah, contracted as in _turned into one word_.”

The two stared each other down.

Dick put his hand to his mouth so Damian couldn’t see him smiling. Knowing his son’s prickly pride, he’d probably sulk for the rest of the meal. Roy visibly reined in his anger and instead looked resigned to Dick’s life choices—he’d had years to accept his grudge against the Batman—and changed the topic away from his bite.

“Should’ve known he’d grow up to be just like Bruce,” he muttered. “I wonder if he remembers Lian pinching his cheeks as a baby?”

“For her sake, I hope not,” Dick said. Damian, having decided Lian was all right after all, walked over to Dick and sat in his lap. It was awkward since he was a bit too big, but Dick didn’t care.

He wound his arms around his son’s waist and smiled into his dark, fluffy hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working not writing porn. 
> 
> Also the reason R'as couldn't just sniff out Damian's true parentage is because R'as is a crazy zombie person who can't smell anything. I don't know, I just wanted this plot to happen OTL


End file.
